"Do you make out anything of a big ship yonder?" he asked, pointing almost abaft.
"I see nothing but the hull of a collier?" said I.
"Then it's my sight that's plaguing me again," and he continued to look as though he had some great purpose in satisfying himself, while from the fo'castle there came shouts of laughter and singing. When he heard this he spoke again, but almost to himself.
"Shout away, you scum," he muttered; "shout while you can. It'll be a different tune to-morrow."
I was leaning then on the bulwarks almost at his side, and presently he addressed himself directly to me, and earnestly.
"We had a narrow shave to-night. It's put me out to leave the doctor, for he was the best of them—one of the only men that I could reckon on. If it hadn't been for him and the Irishman, this lot would have swung long ago—maybe they'll swing now. The hounds have got the scent; and, God knows, they will follow it! It's lucky for some of them that I had twenty pairs of eyes open for me in London, and knew the Government's game in time to get this tender out of Ramsgate; but you mark me, boy, there's trouble coming, and thick. I've gone out without a gallon of oil again, and by-and-by we're going to run for our necks, every man of us."
"What makes you think that?" I asked.
"What makes me think that?—why, my senses. They'll follow us from some port here, as sure as the wind's rising; maybe they'll let us get aboard the ship, and then that'll be the beginning of it. But if we only hold out with the oil, then let 'em take care of themselves——"
"And if not?"
He shrugged his shoulders and was silent; but anon he asked again what I thought of a long, rakish-looking steamer lying some miles away on the starboard quarter, and when I had satisfied him he said—